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Fingers of the Gods
Night had fallen upon the city of Lindala. The sky was empty, save for the glimmering stars. The waning moon casted a pale light over the branches of trees and marble of the city. Moonlight gleaming brightly on the wet streets, the remnants of a heavy rain earlier that day. Amarka and Calicana clomped drunkly though puddles down alleyways and under arches. The girls dolled up in their nicer clothing, clad with bracelets, earrings and other jewelry to compliment their lavish wardrobes. Wardrobes they could afford since coming into much wealth from their adventures. The hour was late but sleepiness had not yet grasped them. They approached the corner tavern that was their destination, its candles still lit the walkways of the street outside. Its patrons still celebrated loudly inside. They entered the establishment confidently. Like the previous taverns that night it was a crowded scene. The whole place would have appeared complete chaos if the waiters were not bustling around fulfilling their duties. Amarka pointed to the end of the bar where a single table had empty seats, still cluttered with mugs and plates. They moseyed over to the table and took their seats, avoiding the gazes of many gentlemen. Cali sat and encouraged a tin mug over the edge of the table with her pinky. It let out a few loud rings as it clattered on the floor. "Oops," she said, looking at Amarka with feined innocence. A lame waitress, a middle aged half elf, hobbled over to their table with a metal tray. She looked flustered. "I'm so sorry 'bout the mess girls, its ugly here this time of night." She hurridly gathered the mugs and plates onto her tray. Calicana gave her a bright smile and raised eyebrows. "It's fine, we're in no hurry," Amarka replied, resting her head upon her arm across the shoddy wooden table. The mug was left on the floor. Calicana looked around the tavern for anyone she might know. "Nope, no one," commented Calicana. Her head wheeled around. "Is this not Belain's favorite place for beverage?" questioned Amarka. The server girl returned at that point to ask for their beverage of choice. The two deliberated shortly on how inebriated they desired to be, and chose a fine wine for themselves. The server girl disappeared again into the mix of shouting people. "What were we talking about again?" asked Calicana. "Belain..." "I've not seen him for many days now. Have you spoke to him?" "Nay, not for at least a week, likely more. I'll bet hes been gallavanting with some young whore on the outksirts of town." She began to imitate him with bright eyes. "Oh my young sweet sow, won't you take me into your arms again tonight? Your father is still yet far from here!" Calicana had a playful laugh, and joined in as the whore in question. "Oh Nex, your burly arms make my heart sing! Take me now, right on the dirt road!" The two began laughing loudly. They sighed the laughter away and eventually went silent again. Calicana piped in again. "I'm sure he'll return in due time to annoy us yet again with his pathetic advances." Their perception of him had over the weeks, from respectable warrior to booze-fueled daughter chaser. They had all remained in the city for a good amount of time, and as they stuck together, so arose their true natures to one another. Though Nex had made flirts to the two of them many different nights, it was not his true desire to bed them. Perhaps this had simply been the result of a man too deep in drink and luxury. "I'm THIRSTY! Where is the precious drink that I covet at this hour?!" Amarka nearly screamed this. Calicana laughed. "We wanna get druuuuunk!" she said in her comical young girl tone. Their server came not a minute later with a fine bottle of wine sunken in a wooden bucket full of ice. Silver goblets were placed before them and then were filled with the expensive spirit. Excitement rose and cheers were had. The waitress left without saying anything. The two toasted to the fate of Lancerus and drank irresponsibly of their beverages. They finished the contents of the bottle quickly and were feeling sloppy. Calicana had scooted her seat around the table closer to Amarka, and they now faced the entrance of the tavern together, watching people come and go, commenting on appearances and gaits. "Oh my Gods that elf is so hot." "Ugh, I wanna fuck that girl." "That guy is wasted." "And that guy...that guy is..." Calicana stopped. "Who?" questioned Amarka. Calicana pointed to the corner of the tavern nearest the door. Amarka focused her eyes to see a tall and lanky figure in the shadow of the corner. He was flailing around, spilling drink absolutely everywhere, shouting and pointing to a parchment nailed to the wall. "He looks drunk as the desert." "Hes... shouting at the wall." Calicana laughed, and squinted to focus in. "I gotta see this." She arose drunkly from her chair and meandered towards the other end of the bar, posting herself up against the wall. The man was clad in adventurers garb, mostly dark leather, and it was ill maintained. All of his fittings were loose and his shirt was damp from the spit falling from his mouth. He was still laughing at the parchment posted to the wall. The more she observed him, the more curious she became. His blatant disregard for everything around him made him seem attractive to her in her drunken state. She began to walk towards him to find out more. "Excuse me. Sir." She tapped his shoulder, and he slowly turned to her. "Hi." he said, reeking of alcohol. "What is his lord doing? Shouting at the wall?" He sipped his drink with deminished dexterity. "I'm dooming...The guy...look, look at this guy's rules. LOOK." He livened up and gestured for her to look at the parchment, pointing. "Rule number six," she read aloud, "Excessively drunk and disorderly patrons will be expunged from the establishment." She looked at him awkwardly, and he fell backwards against the wall in another fit of laughter. She smiled, amused. The two entered inebriated conversation and she invited him to sit with Amarka and herself at their table. The tavern had begun to empty out. "Oh my, who is this?" said one lively Amarka. "This, is Sir Malcom. Tis all I know of him. And that he has a general disagreement with the tavern regulations." "Hi, I'm yer, b-", he stopped to burp. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." Amarka laughed at him, wide eyed. "Ah, I see good sir, and from where do you hail?" "I hail from your mom's bed," he replied, and began laughing uncontrollably. Amarka looked at Calicana, who was as surprised as she was. After he was done laughing he managed to become a little more serious. "No, actually I'm from Larkenvale, born of Jacob and Maryann, not twenty eight years ago." "Very interesting." "And what do you do for a living, Malcom of so and so?" He arose from his seat at this question, and drew his sword into the air. "I find and challenge worthy warriors to combat! I hunt witches and stalk thieves! I get fuckin' drunk as hell everytime something doesn't really go as planned." He returned to his seat, looking pleased with his presentation. A shout came from the bar. "HEY! No weapons in here!" Malcom laughed at this. "You know..." Amarka looked at Cali, "We are warriors ourselves. Of firm repuation in these lands." Her and Calicana awaited his reply with hidden excitement. His drink hit the table. "Oh my Gods, YOu guys." He stopped for a good while. "Are warriors?" He burst out laughing, again. Catching himself, he became serious again, but only as serious as a drunkard could be. "No no you two are wimmin." The entire mood shifted as he said this and they now hated him with great fire. Cali reacted quickly and kicked his chair from under the table with all her might, felling it backwards, and then getting up to stand over him as he lay on the floor. "I will show you the fighting spirit of a woman as you have never seen before." She kicked him again. The bar shouted. "Alright you three, enough, clear out of here." Amarka and Calicana looked at eachother as they breezed past him, exiting to the street. The city was still wet with the humid night air. Amarka and Cali waited across the street from the tavern entrance. "Are you sure you want to do this, Cali?" questioned Amarka. "He's drunk as a door and probably won't remember any of this." Calicana said nothing to this, and remained fixated on the door. She crossed her arms, looking very frustrated. Amarka said nothing else and the two continued to wait, hearing shouts and talk coming from inside. A cloaked man walked by, head bent to the stone. Finally, the lanky man stumbled through the door frame, standing under a lantern. He looked around and apparently had not noticed the two. He turned and began to walk down the street. Their inn was in the other direction. Amarka tugged at her friend. "Come on, girl." she said, trying to walk the other way. Calicana would not budge. Her eyes followed him as he walked, and watched him trip into a puddle. Amarka felt sorry for the drunk man, but Cali did not, and was now pacing towards him. Amarka sighed and stayed back to watch. "Hey!" "Huh?" Malcom was on all fours, trying to get up from the ground. Calicana kicked him down into the puddle again. "A woman cannot be a fighter?" she shouted at him. People in the dark street began to look their way. "Hows this for a fighter?" She grabbed his collar and wrested him up from the puddle with unexpected strength. His clothes were sopping wet, and the water travelled down her arms. She threw him and he landed hard on the stone work. Amarka ran to her now to try and stop her from doing more harm. Calicana stood there, breathing heavily, not feeling shame for what she had done to Malcom. He sit there for many moments, but eventually raised his head to speak through his intermittent coughing. "What was that? A barbarians treatment? Not only is she pretending to be a warrior, but she lacks all manners that a real woman should have!" He slowly got up and now stood before them, undeterred. No doubt the drink had dulled the sensation of pain. Calicana winced at his intolerable attitude. Malcom laughed at her with his hands on his hips. She flared up in anger, advancing rapidly with her fist cocked. Her knuckles connected with his bony face. Malcom took the hit with grace, and moved out of the way quickly enough to dodge her second strike. She grabbed his shirt with surprising speed and began to strike repeatedly with the other fist. Malcom blocked many of them, but not all, leaving him with a bruising around his eye. She pushed him away from her and he gathered himself again. "Is that all?" he asked, looking stubborn, holding his arm. Calicana went in for the headbutt when he said this, and she hit his chest with such force that he went off his feet and rolled backwards over himself as he landed. He sprawled out on the street, coughing quite a bit. She chose not to beat him further. She spat in his direction, and turned around to join her friend who was already trying to walk away. "I guess you showed him." said Amarka. She put her arm around Calicana shoulder. "Some men, I swear." Shortly after she said this, something wet hit her back. She froze, and moved her arms to feel a wet glob of mud all over the back of her tunic. She spun around to see Malcom, hands in the air, a gesture of challenge. "Ohhhhhhhhhh!!! Didn't see that one comin' did ya???" he shouted at her. Calicana had enough at that point, and drew her sword. All denizens of the street vanished as soon as the blades came out. The two were now circling eachother in an intersection lit by lanterns. Amarka pleaded with Calicana to stop, but kept her hand on her own sword as well. Calicana was certain that this man would die. Almost nothing of the way he was seemd similar to a fighting man, save for his appearance. The way he stepped, the way he held his sword, his posture, it was all very out of practice, or perhaps from lack of real talent. How he could call himself a warrior and try to deny her the same title? It was beyond her. In her drunken state she was emotional, and everything about him positively infuriated her. She craved nothing more than to kill this man and take his things, for he clearly did not deserve them. He deserved to be face down in the mud, like the disgusting insult he daringly threw at her. She lashed out. Her first several strikes missed, for Malcom stumbled out of the way of them, barely keeping his footing. His legs must have been weak, or he might have had some semblance of balance on his long limbs. Malcom then made a daring swing, which Calicana jumped backwards from to dodge. He was caught offguard, side exposed, for only a brief moment. She was sure this would be his end, there was no way he could evade her blade now. She leaped in for the final blow. She thought he would enter darkness here. He did not, however, enter darkness, and instead found himself looking upon Calicana facedown on the cobblestone. Her face was ablaze with pain. She yelled as blood ran down her face and fingers. The two girls and their new "friend" were back in their room at the extended stay inn. The night before had seen them on a trip to the local infirmary. They shared a long walk together afterwards on the way back to their beds. Sir Malcom had chosen to stay with them as a sign of gratitude for his life being spared, kind of, and to make sure the two would be safe getting back home that night. Calicana's face was covered in linen bandages. The pads of cotton were dark red and still damp with blood. She lay still in bed, drifting between half asleep and awake, commanded by her deep flesh aches. She occassionally sipped a bottle of spirits as Amarka and Malcom sat at the table across from her bed. "Our fates have woven together strangely," Amarka spoke to Malcom, "It is unfortunate that our meeting would be as dramatic as it has been." She laughed in a hushed tone. Calicana had barely talked in her prolonged pain, but Malcom and Amarka had been getting along famously since their trip to the infirmary. "Yes, truly." Malcom looked at Calicana as he talked, but she turned her head away from him. "At least you're alive and shes not in the king's dungeon." she said. "I've been close to death before. Accidents happen. People get drunk, they fight, swords come out...I've seen it many times." "You must be frequenting the dirtier parts of town." she replied. Sir Malcom looked at her, wondering if he should take offense. " Emm... I guess you could say I've less coin to spend than someone of your stature." While they walked their friend home the night before, she told him of their journeys, about the Tournament of Valrose, her time in the woods, and the many fights they endured through the years. Sir Maclom shared no such stories, so he was thankful when she never got around to asking. "So what about you, good sir? Of what deeds can you lay claim to?" Sir Malcom froze with a teeny smile on his face that had lingered from listening to her tales. He held a wooden mug of ale, and desperately wished to drink of it, but her gaze made this feel impossible for him. His hand quivered with the mug, and ale dripped onto the table. Amarka started to speak agin.. "Ah, and we have so many friends I've not mentioned." He sighed with relief as words began to fill the room again. "I know men of great orders. Orders like Darkmoon Saints, Laughing Skulls, and Death Guard. I know hard and ruthless mercenaries that roam the hills. I know mystical dervish and dark assassains." She paused. "All are friends of ours." She had a mysterious smile when she finished. Malcom knew of none of this. Including friends. He patiently sipped his ale as he sat in what felt like humiliation. "Well, cheers to that mate!" He finally said as he rasied his cup. Amarka raised her up too, but gave an awkward look, as if unsure of him. Malcom downed the rest of brew and smacked it down onto the table, making a loud noise, which made Calicana groan. He continued, "So, whats on your agende today? If its my place to know." Amarka confessed that her and Calicana did not have much to do. They had no muse to leave the city just yet however, having only arrived a month before, even thought they were waiting on no parcels, summons or work. The peaceful realm had little need of their sword arms, and such was their desire for the moment. Women's labor was below them, for they felt that as established warriors their calling was too great to be wasted on drudgery. So instead, they had been getting juiced at all the local taverns and spending all of their hard earned cash to be well fed and entertained. "It has been a relaxing break from all my work as a sword arm. But even here, my fingers itch to grip and draw it again." She zoned out as she said this. Sir Malcom was finding it increasingly difficult to come up with anything to say. Not only did he have laughable experience with any of it, but he also didn't want her to know the truth. He felt embarassed for himself, and decided to attempt different conversation. "So...What were the names of your friends?" "Well. I suppose its not my place to say, but I trust you!" she smiled big at him. "Lets see... Theres Aurilus Iszavel, Keirina Balaur, and Sinthaster Wolfeater, all of Darkmoon Saints. Greyne Mobilis of the Hand of Men. I know a Shamus Stormcrow and Zeeno of the band of Laughing Skulls." As she listed this off, Malcom nodded his head, faking his surprise but only out of wanting to seem respectful. "I see. That's quite a lo-" "Ben Spaygos of the Curators of Halvemaen. Ferrus Artifex of The Black Mountains..." "Very interes-" "Björn Máni of Death Squad...I mean, Guard. Ha ha, silly me. Laulterec Hammerind of Hammerind Steel LLC..." "Hammerind what?" "Nadarath Nachtwulf the Theif. Aera Munila Whitbread. Víðarr Sól of Sol Guild. And then theres Mars, the only elf-dwarf I've ever met..." Sir Malcom was taken aback at how many people she could call friend. "And of course my blade lover, forever and always, Calicana Fireborn!" She gestured over to her self-pitied friend. Malcom waved and smiled, but she turned her head away again. "Wow. You know, thats honestly great to hear that you have such a circle about you, Amarka. Really, it is. A reminder of better times in life! Why, I've only had a couple of good friends in my life and-" "Oh yeah, and Nex and Seobryn." Malcom froze. Then exploded. "Oh my Gods!! You know Nex and Seobryn?!" He grabbed his head and nearly foamed at the mouth. "Ohhhhh! No way! I just got tight with those guys like a week ago! We get bloody wasted together around here! Oh man, dude, this one time, they took me out to the shittiest tavern I’d ever seen…” “Yeeeah, they’re alright I guess.” said Amara, twirling her hair. Calicana finally broke her silence. “If Nex and Seobryn were here they would certainly be able to do something more about my face than those hacks at the infirmary.” Amarka nodded in general agreement. “They would have turned me away if I were not already bleeding onto their floors.” “Speaking of them,” added Amarka, “When was the last time you have lain eyes on either of them, Sir Malcom?” Malcom sipped from his drink for a moment as he thought. He searched around in his head for the answer. “Not a week ago, at the King’s Leg Tavern. Yes, it was a shady hole in the poorer end of town. I had many drinks with them there. Why do you ask?” “They’ve been gone it seems. We haven’t heard of or from them for weeks. The rest of our cohorts remain in this city, some coming and going but not without at least informing us first…” “I believe they mentioned they were going into the mountains when I spoke to them, but not when or the day they would be returning. There was a sensuous maiden hanging on my side at the time so I probably missed quite a bit of whatever the reason was.” He laughed as he recalled her ditching him to chase after a wealthy knight. Amarka released a sigh. “Well at least we know now. Those fools will probably end up on their butts, crying on that treacherous mountain.” “Meh,” Malcom shrugged, “They seemed like they had it together.” Amarka stared at Malcom and studied him for a long time. She tapped his boot with her foot. “You could use some sword training.” she said, giving him a look. Great clouds of white mist had rolled themselves upon the upper valleys of the Lindalian mountains. Pine trees showed their greens brightly in the daytime sun. The sky was unhindered by clouds, illuminating the white snow across the vale. The rocky carapace of the earth seemed divine in that moment as Nex Belain looked upon it; its majestic spires and their green feet held a certain dignity that he felt he was only really seeing for the first time in his life. The peaks of grey and white earth jutted into the empty blue sky, drifts of snow sometimes falling from them. Cold wind jostled Nex's hair as he stood there, his leather boots submerged in snow, then beset with awe at the remarkable scene before him. Seobryn plodded through the snow going up the incline to catch up to where Belain stood. Many days before that the two had set out from the city of Lindala to make a journey up the mountains to see their mystical valleys. It was here Seobryn had travelled many years prior when he completed his training as a druid. Long stretches of time he had spent sequestered in these ranges, he told Nex, and in them he saw what his people called the breathing of the world, a discription of the rhythms of the natural environment. Nex turned his head to Seobryn. "Quite a view up here. What is this mighty vale?" he asked, voice overpowering the mountain breeze. "This, my friend, is the great Fessenlain valley. One of the most sacred valleys known to these mountains, and for as long as these peaks have remained here, this place has been home to the ancient spirits. Ones that have gone undisturbed for untold years. Look well upon it, for we may go no further, lest we disturb their resting place." Nex took a deep breath as the two remained there for a while longer to gaze upon its beauty. It was early in the day, so they still had much light to travel in. The two eventually turned around and descended the incline that brought them to where they stood, through blankets of snow, morphing back into the bare ground dotted by tall pine trees. The snow had not come down in some weeks, and areas not touched by sun were still laden with the white patches. The long days of blazing through unmarked terrain created in them a feeling of being wildmen. Living off of their own work and cunning was their way of life. Their knowledge of the land connected them to it, and as it thrived, so were they allowed to, a relationship that Seobryn spoke of as being most important. A mushroom or berry could be a desireable treat, or mean an uncomfortable sickness, and even death. Even in situations that provoked the latter, nature had secret ways of forgiving such poor choices. Nex and Seobryn knew many medicines that grew freely in the wild, a wily gleaned from years of travel, survey and training. To have knowledge of them was to have a force in the way of the forest, though not dominion, for not all ailments of the wilder posessed a cure. Nex carried with him a leatherbound book written by the holy men of Lindala, complete with discriptions and illustrations of plants both helpful and hindering. His tools, however, were all crafted of men from the Serpent's Valley, possessions that held close to his origins. He wore tightly bound leather and cloth garments, colored sashes were tied around his waist. Seobryn carried very little at all times, bearing his animal skins over a small package which held a few tools and food. His numerous ink designs made his body look dark and burned. The two hiked along the lower edges of the mountainous spines. Though they had ascended quite a ways up the range, the vegetation was still very thick, making passage somewhat arduous. Pushing through plant life was a fraction as difficult compared to scaling the many cliffs faces. Most proved too dangerous to climb, and so they would walk many more leagues through the terrain. By nightfall that same day, they came upon a thin river shrouded by trees. In a tiny clearing surrounded by rocky banks, they made a small fire and pitched crude tents under the light of the setting sun. By the time they had finished, the stars had emerged, but were barely visible through the branches in the canopy. Nex got comfortable and picked the feathers off of a decently sized mountain phesant, which was to be their dinner that night. "There is little meat so savory as these lean phesants, my friend. I found it strung up on the path. Lucky that." said Nex, smiling, as he presented the featherless bird upside down. Seobryn grinned back, and presented him with a sharpened stick with which to roast it upon. Nex leaned over and nudged him as he spoke in a jesting tone. "Except for maybe your sister," he said, winking. Seobryn pushed Nex away with slight force and grimaced. "The only way Yeslae would make it into your arms is if you got your ass to bounce off the point of a spear! And even then maybe not." "Ah, but Seobryn, truly I am the most honorable man you've known. Who better to take her hand than me? Strong, brave, loyal, and most certainly well endow-" he was stopped. Seobryn's heel came upon his foot, and he cried out, grabbing for his extremity. "Mothers of Arn! You weasel!" As he shouted this, the force of the foot blow caused sticks in the fire to stir, and from them came a great pop, and an ember flew and struck the druid's face, causing bright sparks to fly across his head. He yelled and dashed for the dark river next to them, submurging his face. Nex almost fell backwards amidst his laughter, still gripping his foot. The druid brought his face up, dripping wet with cold mountain water. He spat water from his lips. "I know just the thing to fix all of this." Nex leaned over and grabbed a wineskin from beside himself, pouring its contents into a wooden cup he held in his hand. He offered Seobryn the dark liquor. He watched as he gulped it down. "A refreshment like no other." he stated. "You're going to need a lot more of that if you want my forgiveness, lucky swordsman!" Nex gladly poured him another cupfull and then some for himself. The two drank well as they conversed again, no longer feeling their pains. They had travelled many days on Seobryn's invitation, on the pretense that he would guide them through the mountains to see its many beautiful sights. While indeed they accomplished this, something seemed off to Nex, ever since they had departed the city. As if all to be revealed had not been. Time passed and the two sat silent in the darkness. The night denizens of the woods very clearly played their songs on the air. Nex figured this was as good a time as any. "O druid." he said, addressing him. "Yes?" "Whats the real reason you've taken me through these passes?" he questioned, giving him a look. His eyes were piercing in that moment, almost as if he demanded the answer. Seobryn returned him a long gaze, one as stony as the earth itself, and swallowed some of the drink. "I know you better than to think this was merely a stroll through the woods." "Aye," said the druid, turning to the blackness of the brush. "You have an eye and an ear, don't you, Belain." "The very hairs on my neck could tell of the world, friend. No need for mystery, I am an honest and open man. Come, share with me your intentions." He seemed impatient, now knowing his suspicions were confirmed. Seobryn adjusted himself and set his drink down. "You are touched by the Gods, are you not?" he asked. "Indeed, I am. By perhaps more than one." "The Gods and their natures are mysterious. You ask to do away with mystery, but I tell you, Nex, it is my intention to invite it." Nex seemed puzzled by this. "Taking me to a secret spot?" "Uh, yes." said Seobryn, surprised. "Then you already know why I have brought you here?" "Meh, I guessed." "Hm," uttered the druid, finishing his drink. "Because of your experiences in life, and perhaps your very birth, the Veil wears thin around you. I can see it, Nex. The way your presence bends time." "I see. I've come to understand such things about myself." "You have a great calling in this world..." "Yes?..." Nex wondered where the conversation would go. "Great encounters aside, I am still young." Seobryn looked intently at him. "I wish to show you the other side of this Veil, Nex." "Really?" he asked, wondering if it was truly for him to know. "Just how do we go about doing that?" Nex half expected some foreign ritual or ceremony. "And why?" He guessed he had his reasons, but he still wondered. "The secret place you somehow knew of. It possesses an innate connection to the Gods. Of what events transpired there to make it so I have no clue. It is there you will be able to cross over." "Just by being there?" Seobryn laughed. "No, not quite. I have prepared something for you." He got up to retrieve a small bag from his tent. "An herbal supplement, no doubt." "A poison." Nex furrowed his brow at this. "Poison?" "Not a deadly poison, nor a painful or sickening one. I have combined the poison with certain roots and flowers to deminish these effects. However, the poison is necessary, as it taxes the body greatly, and thus relieves you of your physical anchors.” "Ah." Nex's apprehension at the idea faded immediately. He knew of the druids wiles about medicine, for he had saved his own life with it once before. "I believe you we're meant to see what the Gods had in store for you, my friend." The two went to bed soon after that conversation. Nex pondered himself into sleeplessness, but not for long, for the symphonies of night eventually lulled him to rest. The next morning they rose with the sun. Their camp was quickly broken down after they ate what was left of the birds, and they began their long walk down the length of the shallow stream. They trudged through the cold water, Nex without his usual footwear, making their feet feel numb and stumpy. Below the water, the bottom was soft and sandy. They would step on an occasional rock but it was cushioned by the saturated soil. The sun broke in brightly through the trees. Flecks of light danced on the water through leaves and branches, highlighting its amorphous form. The air was sharp with the scents nature. They plodded down the tiny river for many hours before reaching a small cliff where it dropped off, creating a small waterfall. “Beautiful. Is this the place?” Nex asked. “No,” Seobryn replied, beginning his cut through the vegetation at the bank. “We will walk down this hill and follow the river for a while longer.” They tromped down the hill, loose dirt falling down with their feet. The trees grew taller past the waterfall, so the brush was not so forbidding. Nex dried his feet off and reassumed his boots. They continued to hike along the river, now walking through thin vegetation, fallen logs, and sometimes huge juts of rock, tiny fingers of the mountain. They drank much of the water of the river, and refilled their waterskins as oft as they saw fit. After many more hours, and with the first colorful changes in the sky that day, the river bent steeply and became a great white rapids, descending down the mountain, beset on both sides with tall pine trees. Because of how wide the rapids made the river, it made for a gorgeous view that stretched for many leagues. The men looked down upon the great forests and cliffs. “Is THIS the place?” asked Nex. Seobryn merely laughed, and brushed past him, starting up a grassy incline that led into steep forests. Nex followed him, letting out a couple groans. He was not as used to the rugged travel as he used to be. Since coming into notoriety and wealth, his days of “roughin’ it” had all but ceased. This was only one of a couple of long trips through the wilder he had taken in a few years. Seobryn, however, lived for it. “Only a half a day more of travel, friend. And then we shall come upon its entrance.” Nex felt a tinge of relief. It was upon a small ledge that they made camp again, setting up their fire and eating the evening meal with their strong liquor. They slept very soundly that night, as they were wore to their cores from the hard terrain. Cuts from branches and bruises from wood, they awoke aching all over their bodies. Though hard men, the land proved harder, and it took its toll on them. The next leg of their journey was very tough. It was a steep hill with loose dirt, so they had difficulty finding their footing on any part of it. The trees and their roots provided the only surfaces on which to climb upon. Nex grunted as he shouted out to Seobryn. “Hey, are you sure this is the only way up?” “The only one I know of!” he shouted back. “The higher vales of the mountains have few places passable by men. It is either we come this way up the soft hills, or we scale straight up rock faces!” Nex grunted again. “Only a bit longer…” he reassured himself. Higher and higher they climbed for what had seemed like days. The trees grew thinner, as did the plants on the ground. The air grew thinner and crisper. They finally reached a lip in the great hill and the land flattened out. Nex was the first to cross over it, and when he did he turned around, gazing upon the faraway landscape. He fell upon his butt and breathed heavily, sweating and hot. Seobryn came up shortly after, his great arms lifting him up by a tree branch. He too sat upon the ground and the two breathed away the toil. “Man, you really know how to test me don’t ya?” Nex said to him. Seobryn gave a single laugh and drank from his water skin. After a time of rest they rose again, and faced the wall of trees. The vegetation was unexpectedly thick, Nex thought, for how high into the mountains they had ascended. Seobryn led him to the trees. They walked along the tree line until Seobryn found what he was looking for: the start of a path of winding, hewn stone stairs. It was overgrown with grasses and weeds, so Nex did not notice it at first, but when he did, awe and mystery flushed through him. He scratched his head. “This is the entrance.” Seobryn said firmly. “I see. It is hard to imagine seeing something like this all the way out here…” He looked around, as if expecting to see more stonework, maybe ruins, but he saw nothing. “The stairs will not take long to climb. However, I must tell you, this is where it will begin. We should not proceed unless you feel ready to do so, Belain. You should be well rested and of sound mind.” Nex plopped himself upon the second step, and layed himself back upon it. “Then let’s wait another day. I tire in my bones.”